Crown of the Absentee
by Headless Gummy Bear
Summary: A prince that is most certainly not fit to rule, a sickly king, a jealous princess, and 35 girls who don't know what they've just gotten themselves into. Welcome to the Selection of Prince Beckett James Schreave.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the first Selection story I'm going to have! This is my favorite book series, so I hope I do it justice!**

 **This story may be a bit darker though. The Queen died a while ago, the King is ill, and the Prince is a recluse. For the people of Illéa, the royal family has been out of the media's eye for several years. It is common knowledge that the King is sick, but with what and the severity is unknown. Princess Camilla is the only active member of the family, still occasionally appearing in the media. Most of Illéa doesn't know what's going on with the Prince, and he used to be seen as a lovely person, until he stopped showing up to events and stopped giving updates to the press.**

 **Without further ado, here is my story! Enjoy, and please don't forget to follow/fave/review/etc. if you like it!**

"The medicine, Dad," a young princess, Camilla, urged her father to swallow the foul tasting liquid in the small cup, "You need to swallow all of it. I don't care how gross it is."

A physician who had been caring for King Thomas carefully tilted the cup back, and let it touch his lips. King Thomas had paled over the past few months. Cancer had been eating away at his lungs for over three years, and all it took was the last 4 months to restrict him to his bed. Dark circles had formed in the hollow sockets of his eyes, and his hair had become a pale white around his temples, where the rest of his hair was a dark grey. It was reminiscent of a time when he had dark brown thick hair. His skin used to have this glowing tan. The years had beat a once strong man into a frail figure. With the consumption of his medicine, the King was thrown into a coughing fit. As he shook and wheezed, the physician helped him sit up to expel anything from his lungs.

Camilla took a step back to allow him some room. She'd been caring for her father while trying to keep the press preoccupied with subjects other than his declining health. It wasn't like it was easy, especially for a 15 year old girl. The king's many advisors often wondered if she could handle making such decisions, or if she should even be allowed to worry this much about his affairs.

It hadn't been easy for her. Her mother had died when she was born, and she was forced to grow up without a mother figure. She wouldn't have thought it'd be difficult until her older brother decided that being a part of the family was just too damn tedious, and shut himself away into his room. Camilla sighed and watched her dad cough up a lung. A few advisors approached, each of them carried a large manila folder. "Princess Camilla, do you mind if we have a brief conversation with you?"

She nodded curtly, and headed to her father's study. They followed, but didn't match her example when she sat in a large brown leather chair. Instead, they laid out the manila folders on a small tea table, and gave her several papers. "The king had a meeting with us yesterday evening. We recorded several of his wishes." She immediately thought of a will, but usually those are read and dispersed after a death, so she took a moment to read the papers. One of the headers read, _The Line of Succession_. Her heart sped up for a moment as she though perhaps her father had recognized her hard work, and was going to make her Queen after his passing, but it quicklywent to angst and frustration when she saw her brother's name in smaller print under the header.

 _Beckett James Schreave, first-in-line_

Her own name was under it, with terms attached.

 _Camilla Elise Schreave, second-in-line. Succeed upon the death of members above her in the Line of Succession or in the event Beckett James Schreave does not claim a Queen through the Selection process, and refuses to claim the throne._

She looked up at the advisors, each of them a somber look in their eyes. "We tried to make him see reason, that you were more fit to rule than your brother, but he would not allow it. Also, it was in his interest to have the Selection commence as soon as possible, so that he would be able to supervise it to the best of his ability, before…" he trailed off, implying that her father may die in the near future.

The concept of her father dying used to upset her greatly. She only recently became dulled by the thought. People still spoke about it as if it was taboo, and it was. Speaking of a royal household member's death in a planning or plotting manner was treason, unless there was a special permission granted, like if one of them becomes gravely ill, or in reference to succession. However, though it may be legal, it was respectful not to mention it.

"I understand," Camilla spoke calmly, though she could feel her blood get hotter on her face and chest. Oh, how her brother didn't deserve this. She feared he would ruin Illéa though apathy and anger. "Have you already informed Beckett?" She looked up at them. They both nodded. "Alright, then. Thank you for informing me." They bowed slightly and left the room. The advisors that used to question her, now understood her intelligence and commitment to this situation. They had started to prefer her over Beckett, but that would not change her stubborn father's mind.

She rose and left her father's chambers, and instead headed for her brothers. It had been a while since she'd spoken to him, or even seen him. Dinners were usually taken in everyone's separate rooms after the distance had formed between the three of them. It must've been a week, maybe two since she had an obligation to meet with him. Camilla loved her father and her brother, but she was not obligated to like Beckett. There was a fine line between despising him for shutting himself out, and feeling love as a sibling who had grown up and known what he was like when he was as passionate about Illéa as she was.

She knocked on his door, and his servant opened it, and then allowed her to enter. He closed the door behind her, and walked into the bedroom area. The curtains were drawn slightly, only letting in a minimal amount of light, and light classical music poured out from speakers in the walls.

Beckett appeared from behind the corner, wearing his sleepwear still, despite it being midday. His dark hair stuck out in all directions. She'd noticed for the first time that it was getting long and certain pieces fell below his eyebrow. "Milla," he spoke groggily, using his old nickname for her, "What can I do for you?" His eyebrows furrowed together and he leaned against the wall upon seeing her. His dark brown eyes had circles under them, from lack of a restful sleep. Camilla stood up straighter and eyed her brother.

"I came by to ask your opinion about the recent news." She spoke clearly, and let no indication of her irritation come through.

He feigned boredom, and turned toward the middle of his living area. He picked up a small pastry, brought in this morning by the kitchen staff, and motioned with his hand at a small coffee bar. The servant from earlier walked behind him and started preparing a drink. "What news? The news of father's ever worsening condition, the continuity of the Line of Succession, or the fact that I'm going to be forced to play a public game show of affections?" Disdain dripped off his tongue at the final bit. "Latte?" he offered.

"No thank you," she muttered, uncaring about breakfast considering she had her own several hours ago in the morning. "All of the news, but most especially about the Selection. Do you think you can handle being outside of your room for that long?" She teased but a sneer had crept up on her face.

Beckett took a large bite out of his pastry, and placed it on the small plate on his center table when he was handed his latte. Before he took his first sip, he smiled and glanced up at Camilla. "I don't know, I guess we'll just have to find out."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

 **Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a small look into Beckett's mind, but I don't want to give too much away yet. I really hope you enjoy it!**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter!**

 **-HGB**

Prince Beckett understood what was expected of him, but frankly he couldn't care less. The crown was a joke. Illéa would be just fine without him fretting over each details. That's what advisors were for, so the monarchy could remain a figurehead with no real power.

He stayed in his room most days, occasionally taking a walk around the grounds or going to the library late at night. He did his absolute best to avoid his sister. He hadn't meant to push her so far away, but some sacrifices had to be made if he wanted to maintain his peace and quiet. He limited his interaction with servants to just Gabriel, or "Gabe" as Beckett like to call him. He had chosen his favorite member of the staff, and had his pay raised, just so he could have a round-the-clock call time. He had Sunday's off, and those were the days Beckett locked himself away in his room. He would have hardly any interaction during that time. He would hardly recognize the few staff members who would enter his room to drop off his meals.

To be honest, most of the staff was frightened of Beckett. Rumors had spread that he had become temperamental and had a tendency to get violent. They avoided his company as much as he avoided theirs.

It was a Saturday evening. He sat at his sturdy polished wood desk, reading. He glanced up at the news. It was muted but his image flashed on the screen. It was from a few years ago. His cheeks still had a bit of chub in them, and his dark brown hair was freshly cut. He leaned back and his chair squeaked. He plucked the remote off of his bed behind him, and turned up the volume on the TV.

The voice of Raymond Bellaire, the most famous anchor in Illéa, known for his extravagance, spoke. His picture remained on the screen, staring back at him.

… _can be submitted at local town halls, post offices, or other known offices. To find the closest one, you should visit our website. Bring a form of identification, a filled out form, and bring your biggest smile because pictures will be taken at the collection offices. Send them in fast! You only have two weeks before the Selected will be announced on live television, with the Prince himself reading_ your _name!_

The screen flashed back to the Illéa Today newsroom with the two overdone anchors facing the cameras.

 _Thanks Raymond! Now, except for our country's youngsters, we can remember what it was like during King Thomas's own Selection! Oh the magnificent parties, the gorgeous gowns, it gives me chills when I think about how they might top it with Prince Beckett's up and coming Selection!_

They started to recap footage from his father's Selection, making sure to focus on the budding romance between him and his mother, Queen Gemma.

I turned off the TV, not wanted to be a witness to the opulence that would draw in thousands of young girls. He hadn't even been told they were announcing the Selection today. Only a few days ago did they tell him there was even going to be one. He felt anger well up in his blood, but it immediately cooled when he heard Gabe's voice behind him.

"Sir, would you like to take your dinner in your room tonight?" Gabe asked respectfully.

Beckett stood, leaving the remote control on his desktop, and paused. He thought about trying to call Camilla and request having dinner with her in the dining room, but shook the thought away. There would be enough of that in just a few weeks. Also, he knew he would be bombarded with questions of why he wanted to eat in public today. Camilla was relentless with her prying sometimes. The more he pushed her away, he thought, the harder it would be to pull her back in. He did miss the company of his sister, but he knew the edge was fast approaching. There was a point of no return, and he was dangerously close to it. Camilla would lose trust in him eventually, seeing him as a brother only as a formality for the state.

"Yes, I'd like lamb, maybe with balsamic. They know my tastes. Bring whatever they have on hand." He hadn't thought about dinner, and honestly, he wasn't too hungry. He wandered into his living area and sat down in a large leather chair. His eyes glanced around the area. Each royal member had their own apartment in the castle. He had a bathroom, a living area, and a bedroom that was attached to a small study. The ceilings were high, with elaborate crown molding. The walls were a light charcoal, and he had dark hardwood floors. The large windows on the far wall had the drapes drawn back, letting in the setting sunlight. His lamps were lit, so that it wouldn't get too dark to see when the last light of day faded.

Beckett lazily picked up a book from the table next to his chair. He opened it to where the satin bookmark was left, and he waited for his dinner to arrive. He wanted today to end. Saturday's were always the worst, and they left him wishing for Sunday to arrive, so he would be alone and be free to do what he wished.

The doors opened, Gabe letting in a young girl from the kitchens, holding a large platter of food.

"Your majesty," she mumbled as she placed it down, did a low curtsy and left the room in a hurry. Gabe whispered to her as she left, to which she nodded and was gone. Gabe took the lid off the platter to reveal lamb, with a shining balsamic glaze, roasted asparagus, and a rice pilaf. There was an empty wine glass that Gabe picked up, and placed on a small stand. He reached under and unlocked the cabinet doors.

"White or red, Sir?"

"Red, please." Gabe filled the glass, and set it down by his food.

"I hope a Merlot is appropriate for tonight? Vintage." Gabe set the bottle in sight of Beckett, to which he nodded his approval and continued to eat. When his food was finished, and the tray taken away to the kitchens, he sat there in his leather chair. He picked up his book again and read slowly and leisurely, sipping on the tart wine. At some point during the night, Gabe approached him. "Sir, your bed has been turned down. Is there anything more you'd like me to do for you before I retire for the evening?"

Beckett glanced at the clock he had in the corner of the room. The hands had been slowly reaching upward, until he realize it was almost midnight. "Of course, Gabe. Have a goodnight and enjoy yourself tomorrow." With a short bow, Gabe left the expansive room and left Beckett to his own devises. He shut the book, swung back his glass to drink the last bit of the wine, and headed for his bed. There was sleepwear laid out on the bed, but he ignore it and fell into the plush mattress. He'd be waking up in only an hour or two. This was a short nap. He set his alarm for 2 in the morning, and felt the pull of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

 **Hello!**

 **So I'm on…** **drumroll please…** **summer vacation! So excited! The first year of college was great but I'm so happy it's over. And I'm moving this summer so it's going to be fantastic! I'll be on fanfiction most of the time, as long as I'm not at work.**

 **I hope you like this chapter! The next one I put out will be on the 12** **th** **, and it'll announce the Selected.**

 **Thanks! And don't forget to follow/fave/review if you liked it! Everything is greatly appreciated!**

Camilla paced around the bustling studio. Tomorrow was the day that the girls were going to be picked and Beckett was absolutely nowhere to be found. She fumed but in reality she knew this would happen. Beckett was not exactly reliable when it came to fulfilling his duties. She reflected on times past when her father started getting too sick to run his meetings, and tasked both Beckett and Camilla to do it. Of course, only she showed up. At the time, she was peeved but didn't care because that meant she would be the one to run the agenda. She didn't have to worry about waiting for Beckett or deal with his apathy and animosity towards being there.

She didn't know why he wanted to be locked away in his room. As large as it was, it wasn't enough to sustain somebody. Didn't he get bored? She knew he would roam the castle sometimes, and she made sure to try and avoid him, but it wasn't too often. To be honest, she wasn't sure why she avoided him. They'd grown so far apart she figured the interaction would be unpleasant.

She continued to pace as the atmosphere of the studio grew more hastened. Raymond was getting prepped for the camera, something she'd done a while ago. Crew members were setting up chairs, and cameramen adjusted their lenses. The large countdown clock had reached five minutes, and fell slowly towards zero. Beckett didn't come to any Reports in the past year or so, but this report was crucial. It was basically the public's first look at who their daughters were going to compete for. Nothing rested on this except the country's peace of mind. Complaints were already pouring in for weeks about how this Selection was shrouded in secrets and nothing was inherently known about Prince Beckett.

The chaos in the studio that she was accustomed to, became more intense as stylists and producers ran to an entryway. Beckett stood there, scowling. They rushed him over to a mirror and began prodding and powdering him. Producers shouted the plan for report at him, though by his expression he wasn't even listening. The scowl had faded into a look of boredom and indifference. He sat there and became primped for national television. The stylists had started gelling his untamed hair. It was about 2 inches longer than the last time the public eye had seen him. "Ow!" he exclaimed as one young girl pulled through a knot, "Watch what you're doing!" Camilla had already started her brisk walk toward his chair, her heels clicking against the polished floors.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt if you'd gotten here on time! Where have you been?" She scolded him like he was her child, not her brother. Beckett glanced at her, and then rolled his eyes away to the mirror and inspected himself.

He touched an end to a piece of his hair. "Milla, did you ever notice how my hair curls up slightly? It's wavy, I've never noticed that with short hair." He seemed to have not heard her at all. "It's like yours, except for the color, of course." Beckett picked up a strand of her brunette hair. The waves in it bothered her and she'd always curled them to maintain it, but he'd seen her in the middle of the night, as children. Her hair freshly washed and slightly frizzy and wavy.

She started to smile at the memory of when they were inseparable and young, but shooed it away and focused. "Do you see that clock?" she pointed to the red digital countdown clock that now read less than three and a half minutes. "You were supposed to be here when that read twenty! Nice of you to show up on time!" She spat her words, and turned on her heel. She didn't want to allow him to feed her excuses. She approached the chair meant for her. There were two today, usually there was just one, considering her father was too sick. Even then though, usually the report was handled by Raymond, and she didn't need to show up at all. She waited in her seat. At thirty seconds, Beckett joined her in the seat next to her. She threw on her most pleasant smile and sat up a little straighter. The producers counted down to four, and then used their fingers to show the three, two and one. A point at the cameraman and the red dot signaled that they were live appeared.

"Good evening Illéa! Raymond Bellaire, once again, with a very special segment of The Report! I have with me today their royal highnesses, Princess Camilla and Prince Beckett! I don't think I have to remind Illéa what happens tomorrow! The Selection is beginning! We look forward to meeting our 35 lucky ladies, of which, one will become our Princess and future Queen!" There was a small pause, and the audience gave timid applause, dying out into Raymond's introduction again. He stepped up to where Camilla and Beckett were sitting. "Prince Beckett! It's nice to see you again! Welcome back to the Report!" Raymond joked with him, patting him on the shoulder in a gesture of accords.

Camilla turned to Beckett to see how he'd respond, and when she saw the smirk and charming expression of someone who knows how to put on a show for people, she fumed silently. "I'm thrilled to be back on," Raymond stuck out his hand and they exchanged a handshake the ended with them patting each other on their backs; a typical display of affection for two males. Camilla started to sneer. This wasn't the Beckett she'd known for the past couple years. This was a display for her father, and a display for the people of Illéa. It was all fake and it made Camilla livid.

At the same time however, she was thankful. Having Beckett act his usual way on national television would result in an uproar of complaints. It would be downright embarrassing. Raymond gave a timid chuckle and then continued interviewing Beckett. "So, how've you been- where've you been?"

"It's been hard around the castle recently. With my father being ill, and not having my mother around anymore, it's been difficult to cope with. However, I know there are responsibilities I need to attend to, and I'm ready to take on those tasks," Beckett said with a charming smile. _What responsibilities?!_ Camilla thought with the images of her brother being locked away in his room all the time being pushed to her attention.

Raymond gave a large grin and nodded, "That's wonderful Beckett, so are you excited for tomorrow?"

"Of course!"

"What can we expect from this Selection?" Raymond inched closer to Beckett.

Beckett paused for a moment, but then looked up at Raymond smiling, "I'm in it to find a lifelong companion. Somebody to share the burden with. I'm expecting a lot from these girls, and I hope they're ready. The Selection, though glamorous, is not an easy task to go through with." Sighs and light applause filled the studio, and Raymond began wrapping up the interview process, allowing the advisors to take the podium for a weekly update of the country.

Camilla paused, the words her brother just said soaking into her mind still. They seemed far to thought out, and appeared to be completely genuine. They couldn't have been legitimate, and she figured that Beckett had read that in a book somewhere, that they couldn't possibly match his real feelings. For weeks all she's heard from her staff is how much Beckett is resenting having a Selection. As she thought, she recalled not hearing one word in his statement though. The one part of the Selection that Beckett strategically omitted from disclosing; _love._

 **So I hoped you liked that chapter! Let me know what you thought.**

 **Thanks everyone!**

 **-HGB**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

 **Here is the Selected! This is an introduction of our main characters, who will become members of the Elite. I've briefly included three extra characters of my own who will take on smaller character roles. How they get to the Elite is going to be quite interesting, something I will touch on later.**

 **But for this one, I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think and don't forget to follow/fave/review!**

 **-HGB**

The lights dimmed, a single spotlight on Raymond as he stood at the podium. The fact that this was a competition was overly exaggerated, and it made Beckett feel like it was more of a game show than a competition for his future wife. The theatrics in this particular report made the Selection feel gimmicky and fake. He hadn't even gone to speak yet, and they were going to announce the girls.

Faint orchestral music, from the speakers, filled the space and set the mood for how romantic and surreal this could be for the 35 girls who were about that have their lives changed forever. Raymond had a list of names, castes, and provinces, and for the first time he wasn't giddy or filling the room with his presence. This time Raymond stood tall, ready to announce his first ever Selection, and he commanded the energy of the room. He brought all eyes to him, and he inhaled and began reading the names, in alphabetical order of province,

"It is with great pride that I announce the competitors of Prince Beckett James Schreave's Selection. We will begin with Allens," Raymond stated, and then looked down at his list. He read off the name and caste of the first girl, and her picture appeared on a monitor, along next to his own live feed of his face. He was aware that Illéa was going to scrutinize his reactions, which is why he planned to stay completely passive. He had a slight content grin on his face, but forced himself to not give away any emotions. It wasn't hard for the first young girl. She was particularly boring looking, average features had nothing that implied she'd be able to attract his attention though. He hadn't even paid attention to her name, and she had vanished from the screen before she'd made an impression on him.

The second girl however, from right here in Angeles stood out, and Beckett was unable to hold his surprise for a moment. "Avalon Rae Sallee, Caste two," Raymond called out. Her pale white skin looked like paper in contrast to the full, long dark hair that hovered over her like a shroud. Her lips were plump, and her cheekbones sharply defined. She was scary, but in a beautiful and intimidating way. She had no makeup on but her eyelids were still darker, like she was tired. As he studied her image and tried to learn as much as he could from one photo, the picture was replaced.

Beckett was left with his thoughts, quietly reminding himself that he should be passive looking, not lost and confused.

He noticed a girl from Bankston, Freya Monique York, who had bleached blonde hair with powder blue tips, it was choppy and her unusual appearance stood out to him, especially since it seemed she had not cared enough to clean up before getting her picture taken. There was red and purple paint smeared on her cheek and jawbone.

Another girl had caught his attention, Elizabeth Annika Lee, who smirked in her picture, like she was trying to keep in a laugh. She was a four from Calgary, but that didn't even register in Beckett's mind. Her large blue eyes were full of light, and drew him in. It was impossible not to be curious about her knowing smirk. Her pin straight light brown hair was tousled around her face and pulled over her right shoulder. He pictured her as interesting, but knew that look could also mean trouble, something he needed to try his best to avoid.

Then there was Audrey DeLaurentis, a six from Carolina. She was one of only three sixes to be selected, but she looked tired and her hair had been thrown into a messy updo in an attempt to keep it all out of her eyes. He wouldn't have initially noticed her, as she was just typically pretty with dark brown hair and innocent features, but despite the dust that had settled on her brow, there was a sparkle in the camera that rested on her collarbone. He was curious as to how she acquired such a jewel like amethyst, but it was enough to get him to notice her.

Then he noticed Charlotte Katherina Wordsworth, a girl from Columbia who was a three. She was quite pretty, but in a very unique way. Her eyebrows had a bold thickness, a trait that was usually viewed as masculine but it outlined her face and gave her a strong feminine visage that was atypical and made Beckett feel like she was a clever and headstrong candidate for the crown.

But then a familiar face he hadn't expected. Tyler Hail, an exceptionally famous model who lived in Angeles, but her formal residence was in Dakota, where her wealthy family lived. She was the 'It-Girl' in Illea currently. Her long blonde hair and blue eyes shot into the camera as she posed as if she was in a photoshoot. Ironically, Beckett wasn't thrilled because he imagined her bringing her entitlement into the Selection.

The cloud of angst that had surrounded him when he realized he would have to deal with a potential drama queen dissipated when he saw the full smile of Rose Marie Hamilton, a five in Kent. Her freckled dusked her face and he imagined her laugh, even though it was only a picture. Straight blonde hair had gotten in her face, but it added a bit of familiarity instead of a flaw.

Rose's picture disappeared and left, leaving a doe eyed blonde girl behind glasses; a three from Ottaro named Isolde Aldaine. She looked like she should be too young to enter, and then he noticed in her stats on screen that she was 19 years old, on the older side of the Selection girls. This intrigued him and he noticed her laid back, wide eyed photo. He almost didn't notice her out of the several girls he's been shown already, but he thought to himself, but she was one of the only girls who wore glasses, or at least had the confidence to wear them in her picture.

The rest of the names prattled off. Two more girls, one from Sonage and another from Whites had also grabbed his attention but he never once during the Selection announcement gave a hint of his true emotion. He hoped this would allow for the media to come up with their own opinions of the Selected, not praising he ones he reacted positively to.

Raymond signed off the Report formally, and then on the monitors the newscasters returned to the screen, immediately giving their opinions of the Selected. The red light on the cameras had gone dim and Beckett let his passively smiling face fall and relax. He stretched his jaw, and sat up. Camilla had been sitting across the room, and she approached him. He noticed her face was pointed upward, her slight frown pulling at her high cheekbones. He thought she may speak to him about something he could've done wrong. She always had an opinion on his behavior, and he visibly sighed, watching her walk over, but she only glared as she walked past, strutting.

Beckett smirked, relieved he'd gotten off easy from her, and went to get the camera makeup off his face so he could return to his room to relax. He wanted to savor the next few days before the Selection begins and the chaos would ensue.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone!**

 **So yes, I know my update is really delayed. I just have been at work for every spare moment. When I was at home, a day turned into two and so on and I just finally got around to writing it, but I made it longer to hopefully make up for it- DON'T HATE ME.**

 **I did make a Pinterest Board for this story! I'd be happy to add any character creators as collaborators, just PM me! You can look up my page on Pinterest headlessgummy, it's titled Crown of the Absentee. It has faceclaims, first gowns, and pictures of the rooms I used for inspiration. Check it out!**

 **Otherwise, here's the chapter! Introducing the girls to the palace!**

The air smelled stale, and her feet were killing her. Camilla was standing stationary, a hard smile on her face. She was standing maybe twenty feet inside the entrance to the palace grounds, the large opulent gate still closed. Seven long white limousines were lining up, five girls in each one. They were lined up away from the gates, and a large red carpet bordered by fans led to the gates where a large gathering of palace staff, Raymond, the advisors, and herself were lined up to welcome the girls to their temporary home.

Once each limo was lined up in a large loop, the first one had the door lined up to the walkway, and a footman received the signal to open the door. Once he did the first girl out was from Allens, the girls walking out in Province order. She was a bubbly brunette, dressed in a light blue floral dress. She waved excitedly at all of the press and the crowd erupted in cheers at the sight of the first Selected girl. Camilla had not yet memorized all the Selected girl's names, and had an advisor next to her to whisper the names in her ear, as they passed. The other four girls came out of the limousine and the line of limos moved forward to allow for a seamless precession of girls. Some individuals in the crowd held up signs for their favorite member of the Selected.

The girl from Allens was first through the gates, after signing some autographs. Camilla received the name _Maria Newmann_ from the Advisor on her flank. She outstretched her arms and smiled sweetly, and Maria looked star-struck as she first started to head to the Princess, but the curtsied awkwardly and muttered "Your Highness." She rose to hug Camilla. "Welcome to Angeles and the palace, Maria!"

It didn't matter that Camilla was younger than these women. They all treated her with extreme respect, regardless of age. She even noticed she match the height of several of them, her own height at 5'5".

There was hug after hug, and awkward curtsy after awkward curtsy as she went through all thirty-five girls. After each girl, a trio of maids disappeared from the gathering of palace staff, in order to guide the girls inside to where they would be receiving their makeovers. The Prince was not allowed to be viewed by the contestants until a formal dinner, after the girls had received basic etiquette lessons and their makeovers were completed, so he didn't accompany Camilla inside gates to welcome the girls, which was nothing new.

When the last girl from Zuni had been introduced to her, Camilla and her advisors made their way to the front of the gates. Camilla gave a short nod of the head in appreciation for the crowd and the many television stations who had been covering the event. She turned and began the trek up the palace front walk way. Her advisors followed her up the drive and they all went together into the foyer of the palace.

The noise level was the first thing she noticed. There were maids and servants rushing around and gathering supplies for the girls. Rolls of fabric, heavy and voluminous ball gowns, makeup kits, and other beauty supplies were being handed off between the staff. Two maids were arguing over a box of shoes, insisting they would match the dress for their selected girl better than the others. A senior maid came by and broke up the bickering, and went to check both dresses to solve it. A frazzled young butler rushed by where Camilla stood in shock at the closed palace doors. He held a tray of specialty water bottles for the ladies as they were getting done up. The women's room was just down the hall. She had helped setting it up for the makeovers, designing the layout. There were lines of vanity mirrors and tables full of makeup. Dressing rooms were in the corner, and numerous racks of opulent dresses for the girls to pick from along the windows. Camilla could tell which girls were the Selected by the navy silk robes they were wearing. Piles of their original clothes were folded on the vanities as some girls, those who had just gotten into the room like Camilla had, were getting their makeup done. Others who had been there for a while already were getting their hair fixed and a couple had even started getting dressed. The sun had started to fall, turning the sky a slight orangey color. It wasn't quite evening but the afternoon was quickly ending.

Camilla felt a slight twinge of pity for the palace staff. The girls had so much to do before dinner, which was at 6:00pm, only a few short hours away. She saw a young woman with stark black hair who stood out in appearance from all the other ones. She was already getting tailored in her dress so the seamstresses could make alterations as soon as possible. She stood in a black dinner dress that swayed with her motion and had a lace torso and short sleeves. She had alabaster skin and long thick, voluminously curled black hair. Her makeup had been done to accentuate her full lips and sleek eyes. She may have stood out simply because she was the only one who looked finished, but Camilla had a feeling her unusually gorgeous appearance might captivate her brother. However, Camilla knew there would be many girls here who were gorgeous enough to do that. She had a pang of familiar jealousy as she felt herself become inadequate in a room full of pretty girls.

She turned on her heel and left the doorway of the women's room, heading to her suite to get ready for dinner. She didn't acknowledge it, but Camilla was determined to outclass these women. Her brother's attention that had been neglecting Camilla for the longest time was about to be showered on thirty-five women she didn't know. Her brow furrowed, and she mentally denied that she wished for her big brother to speak to her more. A few of her maids who had been waiting in the foyer for her followed her to the room, to prepare her for a formal dinner.

Prince Beckett was in a black suit, standing behind the double doors that lead to the dining room. The ladies had all been escorted here and seated. He hear the chatter even through closed doors. He was flanked by his father's two highest ranking advisors. Sir Phillips was elderly, and used a cane to walk. Sir Gregory was an old friend of the King's, about the same age but in far better health. Beckett nodded to the servants at the doors and they opened it wide. A hush fell over the room. All conversation ceased, and Beck strode into the room, his head down. "His Royal Highness, Prince Beckett James Schreave," the servant announced. He raised it to glimpse at the girls for the first time. Sometimes there is a moment where you can't breathe, when you know things will never be the same.

This was one of those moments. There was a long table, with girls on both sides. Hair was pristine and dresses were full of elegance. Each girl had focused on him, and they simultaneously rose from their seats and curtsied. Some looked awed, some smiled widely, and others pursed their lips and posed. He stood at the head of the table and motioned with his hands that everyone could sit. The two advisors sat in two empty seats on Beckett's left, and Camilla had a reserved seat on his right, but hadn't arrived yet. Numerous servants were serving drinks to the young women. Polite chatter between them all was hushed and almost nervous in the presence of the Prince. He simply smirked as he sipped from his glass. Aware of his presence affecting to atmosphere of the room, he scoped out the faces. Some stood out as sweet girls, others as beautiful but stuck up, and some had a unique beauty. There was one young woman, he vaguely recalled her name from his files-only a few names of the girls he thought sounded interesting he remembered. Her name was Elizabeth Lee, and while she had originally made eye contact with the Prince when he had entered, she now avoided his gaze. She was dressed modestly, but the gown was stunning. It had lace inspiration but with a geometric design. The sparkly dark green color of the design was against a nude fabric. Her exceptionally long ash blonde hair fell in front of her face and she tucked it behind her ear as she sipped from a wine flute. She had natural makeup that made her glow, but she wasn't smiling.

He continued to watch them until he heard the doors behind him open.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Camilla Elise Schreave," the servant announced.

There were a few timid gasps as Camilla entered behind me. Beckett didn't turn, but when he saw Camilla enter his peripheral vision on his right, he saw why the reaction had been one of shock. She was wearing a strapless gown that glittered, and faded into a long organza train behind her. Her makeup was dark, accentuating her eyes. Her hair was meticulously put up into a French twist, with a shimmering golden tiara adorning her head. Camilla's chin was up, and Beckett had a feeling she had planned to enter late so all eyes could be on her. A servant held the chair for her and she sat elegantly, not wavering an inch. For a moment, it was hard to remember she was only fifteen years old, when she looked so regal and elegant. She sat; a drink was poured for her and she sipped from it.

Nobody had continued eating yet. The girls still stared at her, some flickering between the Prince and her. There was no more whispers or side conversations. All you could hear was the light music coming from speakers in the walls to lighten the mood of the room.

Beckett cleared his throat. "Camilla," he started, and all thirty-eight guests at the table looked at him. "How nice of you to join us tonight."

Camilla plastered a sickly sweet smile onto her face that nobody saw past save for Beckett. "Apologies for being late, brother. I hope I wasn't too long." Beckett was about to reply when a line of servants entered with the appetizer, the plates being place simultaneously in front of each person. "Oh! This looks wonderful. Dig in, ladies!" Camilla gave a slight giggle and started eating at the small portion of fish in front of her.

Beckett simply smiled, and took one last glance around the table. Girl's conversations among themselves were picking back up. He noticed Sir Phillips eyeing Camilla, almost disapprovingly. Beckett made a mental not of it, even though it was trivial, and began his meal.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here is the next chapter, and I'm so sorry it came so late. I went on vacation last week and totally forgot to mention that in my last author's note. I feel horrible!**

 **But otherwise I really hope you enjoy it! A special thank you to Canadaorbust and The Lady Cloudy for reviewing the last chapter!**

 **Don't forget to check out my Pinterest board for he story, headlessgummy. If you submitted a character I'll add you to my Pinterest board if you follow it and message me saying which character you submitted. The board has everything from room layouts, to faceclaims, to the dresses the girls wear!**

 **So without further ado, chapter 6! Remember to follow/fave/review!**

 **-HGB**

Charlotte followed the lines of girls into the dining hall. They had been guided through the palace from the women's room like a line of children. They all walked in single file, but in dramatic poise. Nervous twitters came from the girls around her, but Charlotte kept her face forward and put on an air of confidence. In the courtroom, she could dominate any crowd and the same would be for her in the Selection.

Charlotte was a law student from Columbia, and though she try to come off as manipulating, she always looked for a leg up on her opposition. The entourage of girls was escorted into the dining hall. The long cafeteria style table had chairs on both sides. There was a white table cloth and golden décor, like candlesticks, intricately designed bowls of bread, and expensive looking china. There was a small placeholder on each plate set, with a girl's name on it. Some girls looked lost as the wandered around the long table unable to find their seats. Some girls tried to switch the names, attempting to sit closer to the head of the table or by some of the more famous competitors. Charlotte already noticed a group of girls gathering around Tyler Hail, the model who was up and coming in the fashion world. Charlotte noticed she was sitting directly across from her, and received a few pointed glares from members of her following.

Charlotte moved her dress to allow her to sit down. She was in love with her gown. It was flowy and was black on top and faded in to a brilliant array of purples. The bust line was irregular and modern, and her waist was cinched with a thin black belt. Her wavy auburn hair fell over one shoulder, fastened with a pin on one side. Her makeup had made her feel classically beautiful with a bright red lip and her eyebrows filled in and plucked to maintain some shape.

The girl who sat on her left ignored her, and focused on Tyler and the other girls surrounding her. Charlotte would've joined in on the conversation, but there was so much going on that she simply sat up straight and glanced around the room. The girl on her right spoke up. She was wearing a whimsical floral ball gown, her dark hair fell in curls on her shoulders, and her wide light brown eyes looked like she was excited and in disbelief that she was actually there.

"Hey, I'm Audrey- Audrey DeLaurentis!" Charlotte noticed her manners were not the most refined, despite the short etiquette lesson they'd received less than an hour before. Her hands were on the table instead of her lap and she leaned forward with poor posture.

"Charlotte Wordsworth," she replied, sticking out her hand to shake, her fingers straight and slender. Audrey tentatively shook it, but then giggled and embraced the handshake wholeheartedly. Charlotte considered that maybe at the palace it may be inappropriate to shake hands with people. Did 'ladies' have a firm handshake?

Audrey leaned in, like it was a secret, "I used to be a maid, and now look at me!" Audrey was definitely in disbelief, and Charlotte found an opportunity to get close enough to somebody to make living at the palace less uncomfortable.

"Yeah! I feel like I'm in a fairy tale! I mean just look at your dress, it's stunning! I'm going to Law school in Columbia and this is definitely a step up from blazers and suits!" The two girls giggled. At this point all the girls had found their seats and were starting to branch out among their seatmates. Then, making Charlotte jump a little in her seat and her heartrate speed up, the double doors entered, and the Prince was announced.

She saw the Prince step inside the room, flanked by two older men. He looked up and gazed around the room appreciatively. He smirked and Charlotte felt nervous for the first time in years. She felt his eyes wander to hers and then quickly away. The room had all stood up and the girls curtsied. Charlotte didn't realize how much she felt herself assessing his posture and trying to speculate what he may be thinking. She already felt herself judging and thinking of ways to manipulate her way to his attention, and she let out a small sigh. Old habits die hard.

The girls had gotten more comfortable around each other, and as the sound of dessert forks scraping on plates filled the room Rose sat back in her chair and let herself breathe out a content sigh. She had polished off every serving of dinner served to her. She was so full but she didn't regret a single second of it as it was some of the best tasting food she'd had to eat in a long time. Fives didn't exactly have fine dining.

Rose had been trying to listen to the girls around her, but her shyness had gotten the most of her early on in the evening and she hadn't yet introduced herself to any of the other girls. Eavesdropping was easy to do but she gave up listening to the hushed side conversations and her ears caught the sound of classical music being piped in through speakers. It was melodic and light, with an upbeat tempo. The sound of orchestral strings, featuring a violin and piano vying for the central part. She closed her eyes and felt the two instruments dance in sync in her head. Rose loved getting lost in music. The stress of the day started melting off her shoulders and she tapped her index finger against her golden dress.

"You're not going to sleep, are you?" A hushed and concerned voice snapped Rose out of her reverie.

Rose sat back up from slouching in her seat and noticed a blonde girl with curious candy apple green eyes. "What?"

"You looked like you were sleeping. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just-" Rose tried to think of the most normal thing she could've been doing. She was sitting in the royal palace, eating dinner with the Prince and she had been more interested in the faint background music. She felt her face get warm and said, "I was just thinking."

The girl smiled back at Rose, putting her at ease. "Long day, right?"

"And we aren't even close to being done." Rose rolled her eyes and smiled at her own statement, and the two of them shared a laugh at their situations. Being selected was one of the most amazing, and most stressful things she had ever done. "I'm Rose Hamilton," she greeted.

"My name is Isolde Aldaine," and before the two girls got to further get to know each other, the music died down to an almost inaudible hum, and the sound of doors opening hushed the dinner party.

That's when Blaire Walters, the coordinator entered the room through one of the side doors. Her arms were outstretched and it was apparent she was going to an announcement. She had seemed nice enough when giving the short etiquette lessons, but that wasn't too much time for form an opinion.

She stood at the lower end of the table, opposite from where Prince Beckett was sitting, and gave a flourished bow. "Your Highnesses," she greeted the Prince and Princess, "Ladies each of you will have a very short meeting with the Prince. We will go in order down the table, so we will start with Juliet Kippley." Rose recalled the girl's face. She was from Sonage, and was a two. She had to have been important to be a two, but Rose simply couldn't recall much.

Prince Beckett rose from his seat, prompting everyone else to as well. "There will be an elimination after these meetings, so put your best foot forward ladies." That piece of information had some girls gasp. Rose wondered how Beckett could possibly gauge who he liked enough or disliked to make an elimination so early. Beckett walked behind his sister, and held out and hand for Juliet to take. They made their way to the door he had entered through, Blaire hastily walking to follow the two of them.

Rose noticed she was only sixth in the row to speak with the Prince. Isolde was in front of her. They all stayed in the seats, excited murmurs flowing through the rows of girls.

"So, you're from Kent right?" Isolde had gotten her attention again. She leaned in close, ruffling the pastel pink strapless dress that shimmered in the light.

Rose smiled politely, "That's right." She didn't want to admit she hadn't committed Isolde's province to memory, and she was blanking on where she was from.

"I'm from Ottaro, I'm a blogger. What do you do?" Rose smiled at the realization that Isolde was very curious and knew how to keep an awkward conversation going.

"I'm a musician, a singer to be specific."

Isolde smirked, "That's awesome! Can you play a lot of instruments?" She looked giddy, and Rose wondered if she was the first person Isolde was meeting.

"Yeah, I play the cello, trumpet, and piano, though I'm working on a few others."

Isolde and Rose were interrupted by a servant with a tray of milk and cream carafes and a bowl of sugar cubes. When that servant disappeared, another appeared immediately from behind him. "Ladies, may I offer you some coffee? If you'd prefer tea I'd be happy to get that as well." He held a silver tray with white mugs of black coffee. Rose muttered a thank you as she took a coffee mug from the tray, and Isolde instead requested green tea. It was then that Rose noticed that Isolde was next. By the time her tea had returned to her from another servant, the dark haired girl before her was led back into the room. Isolde took a hurried sip of tea, sucking in some air quickly as she realized it was piping hot, and then followed someone out of the room. Rose could feel her hands shaking.

She was going to be personally talking with Prince Beckett; with _royalty_. She blew on her coffee to cool it down, and then took a warm sip of it. She was still anxious but attempted to take deep breaths. When she first started performing, she would get horrid stage fright, and had to be taught many techniques to calm herself down. Rose was almost entirely relaxed when she heard the shuffling of Isolde sliding back into her seat without a single word.

Rose took a pause, then stood up and was led out of the dining room. The headed down an elaborate, but short, hallway and into a small parlor. Guarding the door was a uniformed officer, and Blaire. She furiously scribbled away in a binder, only glancing up at Rose briefly. Inside, the Prince sat in a large plush chair, sipping his own coffee. Rose was on her own now, and went to sit in the adjacent seat. There was two guards stationed inside, both staring straight ahead at the wall. Prince Beckett must've noticed where Rose's attention was because he spoke up, "They're just on duty. You won't even notice the guards around the palace after a little while."

Rose blushed, and then remembered what she'd learned from Blaire. She gave an off balance curtsy. "Your Highness," left her lips almost inaudibly, before Beckett signaled for her to actually sit down.

"Rose Marie Hamilton," he said confidently and with a hint of humor that Rose didn't understand. "What do you think of everything so far?"

She felt her face get warm again, but she took a deep breath before replying. "Everything is magnificent. The palace is just amazing and gorgeous, and there are servants who wait on us. It's like a dream come true. I know I'm not the only lower caste girl here, but it's so nice to have some creature comforts." She didn't realize she was leaning in, as if she was telling Beckett something about her she didn't already know.

He chuckled at her shyness-turned-enthusiasm, "That's good. They should be treating you all like royalty, because when you are a personal guest of mine in the palace, you are nothing less than exactly that." Rose smiled at his romantic quip, but then felt it falter when she looked into his eyes. They looked cloudy and unfocused, like he was paying attention but other thoughts were still plaguing his mind. His hands were tightly clasped on his lap, and he showed no outward emotion other than the strained smile on his face. She had to give it to him, he was very convincing, but Rose saw the subtle cracks he held.

Her smile had faded almost completely, and she wanted to question him about what was haunting his thoughts. "Prince Beckett?" She started to ask, and saw his face become more serious to match her tone. His attention had been cleared as well, and he focused on her completely. However Rose was interrupted from her question by Blaire knocking quickly and then alerting them that the time was up. Rose looked down at her feet, embarrassed that she'd been interrupted and had turned a lighthearted meeting into something that felt too serious.

She returned to her seat and the next girl left. Rose reached forward and took hold of her coffee mug, using the warmth for comfort, and sipped it in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:**

 **Hey guys!**

 **This chapter is extra-long, because I had a lot more planned for the girls first day, but not enough that I wanted to explain in two chapters. Also, I feel like I'm going to start moving my story along. I want to be able to delve deeper into my characters and yours.**

 **Thank you CanadaorBust! I'm glad you liked it and don't worry, she will have more opportunities!**

 **Enjoy and don't forget to fave/follow/review! Also remember to check out my Pinterest story board for COTA headlessgummy.**

 **-HGB**

* * *

When the final girl, Nattia Hope from Whites, a pale sickly looking young lady entered from her short preliminary interview, a hush fell over the Selected. It didn't matter that the Prince hadn't returned, or any of his staff. It wasn't a short time either. A full three or four minutes of uneasy silence passed through the room. The music was so faint that it couldn't be heard unless you focused on it. Tyler Hail was too lost in her own worry that the light melody didn't even occur to her.

The Prince would be coming in any moment now, and would be making his first elimination, just mere hours after the gates had been open to the Selected. Tyler compulsively smoothed her dress. It was fiery red and hugged her model figure, and a neckline of sparkles and a long train had made the dress original. She just needed the Prince to see her for her, and not who the tabloids claimed she was. Just this one chance to prove she had more to offer than just her appearance.

She sucked in a slow breath and eased her nerves, just as the handles to the main dining room doors turned. Every girl who wasn't already staring at the doors in anticipation snapped their attention and watched as two decorated guards followed by the Prince entered the room. He had a small polite smile on his face as her faced the room. "Ladies," he started, "Thank you all so much for joining me for dinner and taking to time to each have a small chat. Though it may have seemed small and inconsequential, those few short minutes have helped me quite a lot in getting a closer look into your lives as my guests."

Beckett took a breath and his polite smirk faded from his face. "Some of you will go home tonight though. All of you were lovely, and I assure you that those of you who will be leaving us tonight are doing so to bring you the best chances for the future." Tyler gave it to Prince Beckett, he knew how to speak and put people at ease. It would not be fun to go home so early, but he made it seem like he was doing the girls who he didn't like a favor, instead of rejecting them.

"So with that, I'll list off the names of girls who will be leaving us. Please stay, I'd like to wish you goodbye. Everyone else, you may retire for the night. Your maids should be waiting for you in your rooms." Prince Beckett looked down at a small card, and read a series of names off. Instead of focusing on the names, Tyler stared at her perfectly manicured nails and counted each girl and listened for the words _Tyler Hail_.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… Prince Beckett stopped and looked up, signaling to us that he was done. Tyler took a small sigh of relief and smiled to herself. She'd made it. One of the girls who had been seated next to her lightly grabbed her arm in excitement. Tyler looked around her and noticed a few girls who had been around her were smiling in her direction, but one girl wasn't. A small figured girl, hardly five feet tall and she looked around in shock, until her eyes became watery, and she started to sob. She was instantly surrounded by a few others who comforted her, and convinced her it would be alright.

Tyler hadn't noticed Prince Beckett leave the room, but by the time she had looked up, he was gone, and the doors were wide open, signaling us to leave.

The girl near Tyler wasn't the only one crying. A couple other girls were teary, including one girl who was absolutely in hysterics trying to explain why this was so much more important to her than the rest of us, which Tyler scoffed at mentally. Some of the 28 remaining girls had gotten up to head to their bedrooms. Some left in groups, others in pairs, and just a few left alone. Tyler stood up to leave and as she did a few other girls around her hastily followed her. Fame created a clique of girls who followed her around, something she didn't enjoy but accepted it as typical considering her upbringing and her popularity at the time. There would always be a few people who clung to her in an attempt to benefit their own interests. She wasn't naïve but it never bothered her enough to call them out. She just was more private than she let on.

As she stepped out of the large dining room, a trail of girls behind her, she saw the Prince in the hallway. He was speaking to some of his staff as he waited for the girls to file out of the room, he turned his head at the sound of clicking heels on the floor. It was a glance at first but then looked back and made eye contact with Tyler. He was emotionless, and let on no indication of why he had looked at her. But she was purposeful to watch him; to maybe find a piece of information. He was more secretive than she was, which was saying something considering she had the press and paparazzi breathing down her neck 24/7 and he had the luxury of locking himself away in his palace all day.

She looked over her shoulder back at him as she turned around a corner away from where he stood. She looked forward again, and down at the floor as she made her way to her bedroom. A smile twitched at her lips. She had gotten his attention, all she had to do was keep it. Tyler went up the grandiose staircase where they were told the bedrooms were. There were two long hallways, and there were girls walking up and down to find their room. It was as much of a guessing game as the dinner seating had been. As Tyler went down the hallway, she noticed the names were on the doors and while she'd started off with four girls following her up the stairs, she turned when she reached the end of the hallway to find there was three now, and one of them was waving at Tyler as she walked into her room. Tyler held up a hand to show her goodnight, and then walked down the second hallway, she found her room. The girls all said goodnight to her, and walked off to find theirs, one of them giggling profusely when she found that her room was next to Tyler's.

"This is so close! It's a sign that we were meant to become fast friends!" Tyler smiled at her and shyly agreed, and ducked into the privacy of her room without a second to talk more, and breathed a sigh of relief.

What she assumed was privacy, was in fact not, as she looked up and almost shrieked as two young women, her maids from earlier, were straining large smiles. "Lady Tyler," they said in unison, and Tyler sighed lightly.

* * *

The room Annika had been assigned was intensely ornate. The predominant color was a clean white. She had a full suite with a living area, bedroom, and large bathroom. The large door that had her full name written in black cursive across the middle matched every one in this hallway. Each door had a name on it to guide the girls to their rooms. Inside hers was a pair of maids, the same two that had helped her with the makeover. One was a tall brunette named Beverly who was around her age, and the other was a younger blonde girl. Her name was MaryAnne and she looked like she was around 14 or 15 years old, just barely legal to work. She was tired looking but still smiled widely.

They curtsied together. "Lady Elizabeth," Beverly said, "We are here to get you ready for bed."

"Please, just call me Annika." She said and the two maids nodded. Annika gazed in awe of her bedroom, and saw her plush looking bed had been pulled down. Her maids went into the attached bathroom and when she did the same she saw a bath had already been drawn for her. The tub had jets and steam rose and fogged up the mirror that took up an entire wall. The maids waited expectantly, but Annika just stood there waiting for them to do something. "Um…"

Beverly spoke first, "Lady Annika, we're here to help you get cleaned up. If you would just-"

"What?" Annika took a step back in protest and hit the frame of the door. "Ow!" The two maids rushed over to her.

"Are you alright?" MaryAnne held Annika's arm.

Annika brushed both of them off her side. "I'm fine! I'm fine. Why can't I get clean, um, myself?" Annika took a deep breath and calmed herself down.

"It's just how things work here. If you are selected, all members of the royal family are taken care of like this." Beverly explained with a bit of resentment in her voice.

"Oh." Annika straightened, her instincts telling her to not allow them to bathe her but reasoning telling her that they were just doing their jobs. She smiled uneasily and allowed herself to be cleaned. She was given the choice of oils and scents. She picked lavender and suddenly the room was filled with a wild and sweet scent. She relaxed into the warm water and suds. After she had been wrapped in a warm fluffy towel she went into the bedroom and there was a light green and white silk nightgown. "Do you by chance, have pants?" Annika asked, looking at the pajamas on the bed.

"Well, we'd have to request that from the laundry rooms, and they're closed by now. We can get one for you tomorrow, if you'd like-"MaryAnne started, but Annika cut her off.

"Oh, then this is fine." Annika felt like she was making an already hard job more difficult. "Everything is wonderful."

Beverly smiled, happy that Annika wasn't going to be difficult about it. "Is there anything more you'd like us to do for you?"

Annika smiled, she clutched her towel to her chest and explained she'd be fine for the rest of the night. MaryAnne and Beverly curtsied again and left the room. Annika flopped onto the bed and let out a loud exasperated sigh. She was insanely grateful, but there was so much that was different. She wasn't expecting this much stress to go along with being treated like royalty. She'd aced Medical Microbiology more easily than this. She slid on her nightgown, and disapproved of how revealing it was. On the bright side, however, it was extremely comfortable. Annika paced around the room. Despite the events of the long day, she couldn't relax enough to go to sleep. A new bedroom and the stress of needing to impress everyone around her made her unable to unwind.

At first she explored her new room, finding there was an array of storage. She hadn't unpacked yet, and her bags were waiting for her in her walk-in closet. She started to put things away, but eventually she felt the need to take a longer walk than one side of her room to the other. She dug around in one of her bags for anything to cover up. She found her favorite winter cardigan, made out of cream colored wool. She pulled it over her head and silently cursed herself for not bringing sweatpants. The coordination staff had told her that most clothes would be provided, and she should bring only a few things for days off and personal items.

She checked the time on a small clock that was positioned next to her bed and saw how late it was. The digital clock read 2:48am. Annika hadn't realized she'd spent hours exploring her room and going through her belongings. She felt her stomach ache and bemoaned the fact that breakfast was in more than four hours, and the fact that she would most likely not be getting much sleep. Not like it was any different from school. This wasn't the first all-nighter she'd pulled by accident. Finals week flashed back at her, the countless days of studying almost like a bad dream.

Annika pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands and unsteadily opened her door. The hallway was dark and she couldn't see the end of it. It was cooler in the hallway and while at first she doubted whether she should be walking around this late, if she would get in trouble, her nerves settles as she started appreciating the peacefulness of the palace at night. It was quiet and a huge contrast to the chaos of yesterday. She'd made it to the staircase that led to the downstairs foyer, and crept silently down it. On the lower level, Annika had walked past the dining room, past the women's room and in to a hallway she hadn't seen yet. She thought it may be where servants work because it suddenly got less decorated and more practical. She saw a dim light on under a door, and approached it hesitantly. It was a swinging door, meant for easy entry and exit, like a kitchen door. There was a small window and saw that it was a kitchen just like she'd guessed. However it was rather small, and didn't look like it could serve an entire palace full of guests and staff. It was cozier and the walls had polished white brick. It looked clean with a large island, and plenty of baskets holding towels and raw vegetables.

The growling in her abdomen compelled her inside, and pushed open the swinging door. On the far wall, not visible from the doorway's windows was a large stainless steel refrigerator, and Annika realized she wasn't the only one awake. A mass of scruffy black hair, Prince Beckett, held the double doors to the fridge open, looking through the shelves and drawers. He hadn't heard her come in, and she turned on her heel to leave, ignoring her belly, but he had heard the swishing of the door when it swung open, and turned around to face her.

"I'm sorry!" Annika quipped, automatically self-conscious of her appearance. She felt exposed and she crossed her arms. "I assumed I was the only one up, I'm going back to my room now."

As she angled herself to leave again but he spoke up, stepping toward her. "No, it's alright," he said. "Night owl?" He reached into the still-open refrigerator and grabbed a bowl of raspberries. He shut the doors and sat on a stool around the island, motioning for her to join him in snacking on the sweet fruit.

Annika joined him on the other stool and took a small handful and ate them out of her hand instead. "A little. I just couldn't sleep, and then I got hungry…" Annika trailed off. She wasn't a shy person, but this wasn't just anyone she was sharing a bowl of berries with. He was the Prince.

"It's Elizabeth, right?"

Annika quickly corrected him, "That's my first name, but I prefer Annika, actually."

Prince Beckett smiled, "Of course, Annika."

Annika averted her eyes from his, not out of bashfulness or anything, but because it was so awkward. She knew nothing about him, and began to think that maybe that chance she'd taken entering in the Selection wouldn't pay off. They weren't clicking at all, or at least she didn't feel like they were. "I, uhm, should go back to bed. It's an early breakfast, and Blaire has lessons for us and…" She trailed off again, feeling herself ramble. She stood up quickly, but then stopped short and gave a hurried nod of the head, and muttered, "Your Highness."

But Prince Beckett stood up too, and was face to face with Annika before he took a quick step back. "I apologize, if I've done or said any that offended you-." Concern washed over his face. It was clear he was confused as to why she was being standoffish.

"No! You didn't, I just thought-"but Annika didn't finish.

Prince Beckett looked away as if he were troubled or thinking deeply. "Let me make this up to you. Please?" He had turned and faced her eyes. Just like during dinner, when they had briefly locked onto each other, Annika was the first to look away, and Beckett didn't know why.

"Okay," Annika backed away again, unsure what she felt. "Goodnight, Your Highness."

The Prince smiled at her, "I prefer Beckett, actually." Annika stopped and smiled.

"Of course, Beckett," Annika said with a smirk and left the kitchen to head back to her room.


End file.
